


fixin'

by bleuboxes



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Doctor Who (2005), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Is a Good Bro, Clara is a mess but she is trying, F/M, Friendship, Slow Burn, clara is not coping very well, kitchen floor conversations, she need so many hugs, steve is a little shit as usual, very background steve/sam is happening as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuboxes/pseuds/bleuboxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, she’ll finally start to be reimbursed by the universe for what she lost. Granted, nothing can replace Danny or the Doctor or everything else, but at least the residents of Stark Tower might be able to fill the aching void of companionship that she’s been feeling all too steadily for the past few months. </p>
<p>And even if they don’t, well, she has nothing left to lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warning: clara has a tiny panic attack towards the end, it's nothing too graphic or intense, but just to be safe.

The thing is Clara hates big cities – maybe in part by her fear of getting (and being) lost. It’s a hell of a lot easier to not know where she is when she’s surrounded by tall buildings and millions of people and cars and anything and everything in between. 

But, UNIT’s been wonderful enough to give her a job that is far away from her memories regarding the Doctor (who was most definitely lying about Gallefrey – she knows him too well. Hopefully, he’s too busy being ‘the better person’ to catch her on her fib) and Danny Pink.

UNIT never really told her what her job encompassed (which was something that didn’t really bother Clara – the anticipation has kept her mind off certain people, so maybe the ‘coming in blind’ approach is a good one.) She wanted out of the country, UNIT offered a job in New York City (free of Clara’s expense thanks to Kate), and Clara accepted; it’s not something you just refuse. It is UNIT, after all, so she’s assuming the job parameters include something revolving around science and aliens – and probably something completely bizarre. And of course, if UNIT’s involved, nothing is going to go according to plan added to the fact that Clara’s life fits the very definition of impossible, so that means this job is either going to make her or break her.

(Clara has her money on the latter; she’s walking on a very fine line of mental stability right now, and even the slightest bit of only-god-knows-what might push her over the edge.)

Naturally, she finds herself lost in New York City. The obvious thing to do is to call Kate in hope of getting directions to where she’s going (before she breaks down in the middle of a busy sidewalk.) Kate does give her directions (good ones, at that), but they are met with a catch – Kate never felt the need to inform her before now that the rendezvous was at Stark Tower – where she would be working (something with identifying and studying alien weapons that somehow found their way into the hands of Tony Stark and the world (and then some) famous Avengers.)

Nobody tells her anything (She voices this to Kate – and the woman just laughs.) 

“Good luck, Clara.” Kate says before she ends the call. Clara pockets her phone and sighs, gripping the handle of her bag a little tighter.

All Clara’s got to do is figure out where she is right now so that she’ll be able to walk to Stark Tower. The cabs are expensive a hell, and she’d much rather be pissed off with blistered feet than pissed off and broke. 

After asking several people for directions, she realizes that the tower is only four blocks away – four long, chilly, agitating blocks.

But, she does get there without losing a penny or breaking a sweat. She quickly tries to tidy herself as she looks up at the building than back down at her feet. She’s nervous – she shouldn’t be, but she is. (There is a big difference from working with children and working with certified geniuses; sue her, she’s a little intimidated.) 

She’s also cold and if she continues to wage a battle with herself in-between her eyes, she will freeze to death, so she enters the building.

The lobby is a crisp white and grey which complement the sophisticated design of the interior. If she’s being frank, it feels very off-worldly – like something she would see in the future on some far off planet. She knows it should intimidate her, but it doesn’t – it feels more like home than anything. 

Perhaps walking in here _wasn’t_ such a bad idea. 

She approaches the front desk – a sleek metal thing which sits beneath Stark’s name hanging on a wall, and the woman behind it. The woman is pretty. It’s not a soft beauty, but it’s hard and angular and tough. Clara finds herself thinking that the porcelain skinned, dark haired woman in front of her is the most intimidating thing in this room. 

Clara digs though her jacket pocket, and pulls out the envelope she was told to show to the front desk when she arrived. She places it on the top of the desk; the woman picks it up, opens it and examines it. Clara stands there awkwardly for a few minutes while the woman breezes through it. 

“Clara Oswald?”

“Yes, hello. That’s me.” Clara responds quickly. The woman in front of her extends her arm. Clara shakes it.

“Maria Hill. I’m going to show you to where you’ll be staying, and then, Tony said he was going to give you a tour of the tower; apparently the Team has been anticipating your arrival.”

“Sounds brilliant.” Clara’s a little taken aback that people were actually excited about her staying here. They sound welcoming enough and Clara can’t help herself when she smiles. 

Maria walks out from behind the desk and motions for Clara to follow her to the elevator. Clara’s a little jealous – even the way Maria carries herself is impressive. They enter the elevator, and Clara is a little taken aback by the sheer amount of floors in this building (despite the fact she’s been in buildings much, much larger than this with the Doctor). 

Clara takes note of the button Maria presses while the doors close. She knows that she’s bound to get lost at some point during her stay here – but she’ll try her best to at least have a brief idea of where she’s going (and she can start off by knowing the floor of her flat.) 

The elevator ride is quiet for the most part; Maria is typing things into her tablet and Clara is busy looking out the clear glass at the skyline to even talk about anything. (The Doctor was right – with a view like this, it is really quite simple to appreciate how beautiful the Earth is.) 

They reach the eighty-second floor relativity quickly, and soon make their way down the hallway – which is just as dignified as the lobby (that’s with the complete disregard of the remnants of a bright pink glitter bomb outside of her neighbor’s door; Maria just shakes her head and Clara gets the feeling that this sort of thing is a common occurrence.) Maria hands her a key and explains JARVIS (and privacy protocols and that she’s basically allowed to meander anywhere.)

Which is a relief for Clara, whose curiosity oftentimes gets the better of her. (Also all she has to do is call for JARVIS in the case in which she manages to find herself lost and he’ll direct her back to her room.)

“Also – if you find yourself suffocating in testosterone, just give me a call.” Maria smirks and hands Clara a card, “I’ll leave you to your unpacking, Tony should be here in half an hour, but he’s always at least twenty minutes behind schedule – so there’s no rush.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer.”

“See you around, Miss Oswald.” Maria says as she exits Clara’s flat. 

The first thing she notices is that it’s huge – bigger than any place she’s ever lived (and since she’s never really permanently taken up residence in the TARDIS, that doesn’t win). The flat is also severely lacking in personality – the bright walls are an almost blinding mix of white and grey and the furniture (however comfy looking it might be) reminds her too much of a planet she had almost died on. 

But, that put aside, she likes it (and she likes it even better knowing that she doesn’t have to pay to stay here). 

She explores her flat for a little longer before placing her jacket on the back of a chair. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in, and moves on to empty her luggage (which was delivered to her flat before she even got here; Kate sure does know how to come through. 

She first puts her clothes away in various positions in her closet and dresser. She then moves on to placing her trinkets and pictures around her bedroom, but that’s never completed because a very excited Tony Stark comes barreling into her bedroom. 

“You must be Clara Oswald.” He grins. There is something about him that reminds her of the Doctor – she’s not sure what it is yet but she intends to find out. 

“That’s me, I’m going to go on with the assumption that you are Tony Stark?”

“Cute and Intelligent – JARVIS, I think we’ve hit the Jackpot.” 

“Noted, Sir.” A vaguely robotic voice chirps. Clara doesn’t look up (he looks like he’s expecting her too; he’s in for quite the surprise.)

“Well, Mr. Stark, I’m sure you know that not just everyone almost becomes the Emperess of the galaxy.” He cocks and eyebrow. She tries her best to stifle a laugh. (Needless to say, she fails.) 

“And she’s got a personality –“

“She’s also not exactly sure what she’s doing or where she’s going so if you would care to elaborate…”

“Yes, yes – right this way Miss Oswald.”

He explains that her floor is purely residential (and that her neighbors are legitimately the Avengers and an Astrophysicist and said Astrophysicist’s bad ass lab assistant; Clara is more than a little whelmed. Mr. Stark – or as he told her to call him, Tony – is much more friendly than she was expecting – he’s rude and arrogant but Clara’s only been traveling through space and time with someone with an even bigger ego (and platform of self-hatred), so she’s sure Tony Stark shouldn’t cause her any trouble. 

He takes her up to the labs – and to her lab (she gets her own lab! She’s freaking out a little bit). She’s apparently their new alien tech specialist (basically, once they get clearance from Thor that the alien-whatever they managed to get their hands on won't kill her on contact, she looks into it – with her UNIT and other firsthand knowledge.) 

And apparently such a job title as hers gives her invitaton to Team bonding things (which she’s planning on avoiding with a ten foot pole – she doesn’t want to impose.) 

That’s before Tony tells her that if she’s intentionally skipping out on Team bonding exercises, he will unleash the pleading eyes of Captain Rogers upon her. She laughs – she doesn’t have the heart to tell the man that she just doesn’t feel like doing anything but her job anymore. 

Even though she’s getting a pretty good idea that tony Stark once felt the way she’s feeling right now.

He shows her the gym where the pair of them narrate the fight going on between The Black Widow (Natasha) and Hawkeye (Clint) in-between fits of giggles. 

And then he shows her the pool (which she will most definitely be swimming in during the early hours of the morning when she can’t sleep because of her soul-crushing guilt of lying to her best friend).

Tony talks to her as well; he knows that it’s going to be awkward, and that she will get weary glances (which is nothing new), and if there is anything that she ever needs, he’s a call away. 

She is also informed that shenanigans do happen around the tower (i.e. Clint’s failed attempt at glitter bombing her neighbor’s (Sam Wilson’s) flat, and she is bound by obligation to be on Team Science!. 

She’s got no problem with that.

 

 

It’s late in the evening by the time Tony brings her the common room, so the crowd she was so desperately hoping to avoid is lounging in front of her. And of course, Tony Stark (despite that she’s only just met him) has to be loud mouthed and announce that he’s arrived with the new Science! Person.

Suddenly all eyes are her (and she’s ready to shrink into a pile of nothingness). But - she’s Clara Oswald, and she’s faced much more terrifying things than a few superheroes (human ones at that.) She swallows her apprehension and panic, and puts on her everything-is-fine face (while trying to think of a witty way to introduce herself.) 

“Clara Oswald – professional alien arse-kicker and time and relative dimension traveler.” They all continue to look at her. Clint, Sam, and Steve grin at her – but the others are much more apprehensive. Tony pats her on the back and she really just wishes she could curl up in a blanket with a nice hot tea and cry. 

“So…” she begins, “I’m gonna meander my way into that kitchen over there,” she says, pointing to her left where a man and a woman are sitting hunched over the counter, “and make tea for myself. Tony, would you be so kind as to direct me to where I should be looking.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

As it turns out, the man sitting at the counter is none other than Thor Odinson, who is with the lovely Jane Foster – with whom she’s able to strike up conversation about space and planets and inter-dimensional travel. Tony is trying his best to not look so utterly lost, and she can tell that the others who are nearby are listening in.

Then Jane starts rambling about some formula that she and Thor don’t even understand, and she decides to call it a night. Clara politely exits the conversation (she’s also invited to join them for breakfast tomorrow before she leaves) and makes her way back to her flat.

Her first day here was nice, and in time, she does whole-heartedly believe she will grow more comfortable around these people, but for right now – while she’s still grieving over Danny and the Doctor and everything else that she doesn’t deserve – she can’t fathom how she’s ever going to assimilate to such an environment. 

As she makes her way down the hallway on the way to her door, she feels as if she’s ready to cry. She knows Danny would be proud of her for moving on with her life and that this is what the Doctor wanted her to do, but she feels like she’s being selfish – she feels guilty for wanting to get her life back in order because she feels as if she should still be in the stage of self-detrimental grief.

She can feel the tears pooling, and takes in a huge breath in effort to stop them (but that only seems to make it worse.)

She’s shaking as she tries to unlock her door, and it doesn’t help that she can feel the gaze of someone on her as she struggles with the key. She doesn’t know who this person is or what they want (or why they are just standing there leaning against the glittery mess on the wall) but she does except their help when they – he (it’s man – a handsome one, at that) offers to unlock the door for her. She replies with a shaky thank you as he effortlessly unlocks the door. He quickly drops the key into her hand and she offers him her best smile that she can procure at the moment before hastily shutting it in his face. 

She tries her best to remain composed while changing into her pajamas. By the time she falls into bed (which is much too comfy for her liking), she’s too tired to even think about crying. 

 

 

 

In the weeks that pass, Clara becomes fully dedicated to her work – not allowing herself to stop until her body is physically unable (or until Darcy Lewis, the lab assistant/mom friend, forces her out of the lab to sleep and eat and relax).

So, the deal is, when Clara isn’t working her arse off, she’s busy being an emotional mess.

She should know that things like this just don’t improve with a new job (in a new country with new people) – she’s been through grief like this before; she knows all too well what it’s like to lose people close to her. She just feels like it’s her fault for all that’s happened – for Danny’s death and the Doctor leaving. Hell, she did betray him; she’s not even that bothered that he left, she just wishes he didn’t have the audacity to lie to her about it. (Not that she’s one to be talking.) 

She chides herself for thinking that just because she left England and her life in that country behind her, she wouldn’t miss it. 

And she does. She misses the Doctor, she misses Coal Hill, she misses the TARDIS (and all the adventures that come with it), and she misses Danny. She’s homesick and she’s desperately lonely. (Not because the people she’s working and living with aren’t disregarding her, but because she doesn’t want to drag them into her tale of woe; they’ve got much bigger problems to worry about.) 

If they can tell she’s not dealing with her shit very well, that don’t say anything (well, Darcy does on multiple occasions, but Clara’s resilient as hell and usually tells her to bugger off.) Although, she is pretty sure they man who helped her get into her flat has been keeping an eye on her. She’s not sure who he is – but she’s seen (and heard) him coming in and out of Sam’s flat as well as in the labs (well, Tony’s lab, but when he’s done doing whatever he does in there, he usually takes a few minutes to idle by the door to her lab before going to sulk somewhere else. ) 

She wants so confront him – figure out who he is and why he’s keeping an eye on her, but she feels a direct approach is too strong (at least for right now; god only knows the residents of Starks’ tower are up to their ears in traumatic backstories, and the last thing she wants to do is trigger anyone because she was reckless enough to be too upfront.) 

So, she asks around (and by that she means talks to Darcy. That woman has a way with getting information – it also helps that she can’t help but run her mouth to anyone that chooses to listen). 

Darcy’s information is helpful (to an extent). His name is James Barnes, he’s a friend of the Captain’s (Darcy's also gotten into the rhythm of calling him Sergeant Sass or Gramps and repeatedly warned her that Barnes is ‘a little shit’.) 

Clara grins; she sure as hell can’t deal with her own problems, but she’s dealt with moody British teenagers for the better half of her life. She shouldn’t have any trouble with Barnes. 

 

 

 

But you know, she’s Clara Oswald and probably has inherited the worst luck in the galaxy (and that means that anything and everything goes to hell.) 

When she isn’t researching him, Clara starts going visiting the common room after she’s kicked out of the lab (at the dispense of Darcy’s nagging). She usually brings a book (usually either a classic or a biography; this week she’s found herself in the company of her well-worn copy of Louisa May Alcott’s _The Inheritance_.

On this fine Tuesday evening, she’s lounging across the sofa trying her hardest to pay Rogers, Sam and Barnes no attention as they collectively point out inaccuracies and inconsistencies within the movie that Tony picked out for the evening. Natasha is trying to get the three of them to shut up, but Clint keeps adding wood to the fire and the three of them just won’t quit it.

She swears the three of them combined are acting worse than children; is it that hard for them to simply watch the movie for the sake of watching it? (and not pick out all its flaws. It’s a movie for god’s sake, and they should have known that it was going to be full falsities.) 

She lets out a groan, and repositions herself and tries to continue reading with their constant nagging in her ear. She manages to get through two more chapters – pushing their complaints and Natasha’s shushing and Clint’s whatever-the-hell he’s doing out of her mind. (Thor and Tony, however, cannot handle it as well as she can and they left within the first ten minutes of Rogers’ whining.)

“Would the three of you stop acting like bloody children?” she sighs. Barnes, Rogers, and Sam all turn their heads towards her. She fights the urge to meld into the couch cushions when Natasha and Clint join in looking at her. “Natasha’s only been telling the three of you to shut up for the last forty minutes.”

“Ma’am,” Barnes begins after he shares a shit-eating grin with Rogers, “if you knew of the bullshit going on with these action sequences, you’d be complaining too.”  
“Sergeant Barnes, I quite frankly don’t care. You said yes to Tony when he suggested the damn film – also it’s a fucking movie? And if we’re being honest, when has Hollywood ever been a significant source of accuracy?”

“Better listen to the lady, Barnes.” Clint snickers. Natasha slaps the back of his head, and Clara decides now is as good a time as ever to get some tea. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She exits the room and hurries her way into the kitchen where she finds a box of chamomile. After she puts the kettle on, she grabs her favorite mug (which she bought in a market on Akhaten some time ago) from the cabinet. Placing her mug on the counter beside the stove, she lets out a sigh and pushes her hair back behind her ear so it’s no longer in front of her face. 

While her water boils, she contemplates Barnes. She’s still not sure why he keeps following her, and she still doesn’t know him or his habits nearly enough to ask him about it. But, she has noticed the way he looks at her – like he knows (or knew) her, which is a possibility she can’t rule out (with her being a time traveler and her echo situation). 

So far, those two things seem like the most plausible explanations. 

Unless, she of course was on his kill-list while he was all Brain-washed Hydra Assassin – which is another totally plausible thing (because you know, infiltrating a soviet submarine that’s holding a hostile alien does warrant that sort of thing.) 

Her thoughts are interrupted by the shrilling of the tea kettle. She jumps, then rushes over to take it off the heat. She opens the package containing the tea bag and places that in her mug before pouring the water. While the tea is seeping, she rushes to the fridge and searches for the milk. 

And that’s when Barnes enters the kitchen (but she’s too busy searching the fridge to notice).

She does, however, find the milk at the expense of walking straight into Barnes’ chest. She lets out and ‘oomph’ and a string of apologies (even though it’s clearly his fault for being in the way). She skitters around him over to where the tea is steaming, and pours in some milk. Clara grabs a spoon out of a near bye drawer and stirs her tea with it. He’s watching her very indiscreetly, and while she’s grown accustomed to his gaze, she can’t help but feel a little discomforted by his stare. 

She picks out the teabag, and tosses it into the garbage can and returns to the spot on the counter top where she set own the milk to only find that it’s no longer there. 

Instead she spots a very guilty looking Barnes leaning (very prettily) against the refrigerator. He shrugs. Clara fights the urge to laugh, so she settles with shaking her head. 

“You’re something else, Barnes.” 

“Says the time-travelin’ English teacher turned whatever the hell Stark has you doing in the labs.” 

“Technically speaking, it’s what _UNIT_ has me analyzing in the labs, because you know, Stark is much too curious, although I also fit that department so that was a really bad call on Kate’s part…” she pauses, “How’d you figure I was a teacher?”

“Picked up that book you were reading before on the couch – you’ve got special annotations in it.” She nods, with a quirk of her eyebrow, but she knows there’s more, “also read your file.”

“Ah, right… I sometimes forget you people are nosy little pricks like that.” She takes a sip of her tea, which is still scalding, but that doesn’t seem to bother her. And Barnes laughs – and she’s suddenly aware that the sound of such thing is almost as pleasant as the groaning noise the TARDIS makes. 

“And if that was a jab regarding my handwriting, you better watch yourself – super-soldier or not, _I will get you_.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past you, Oswald. Your reputation precedes you.” She knows he means well, but his statement has an ill effect. Yes, her reputation is impressive – but it’s also filled with tragedy and everyone she’s ever lost (herself included). 

She won’t let herself fall apart - not here and not now that Barnes is actually speaking (possibly attempting to flirt) with her. If she can survive getting her soul ripped into millions of pieces, her best friend leaving her, and her boyfriend dying, she can get herself out of the kitchen and into her room without shedding a tear. 

Unfortunately, Darcy (along with other sources) failed to mention that Barnes is perceptive as fuck. The look he gives her (stirred in with her added anxieties) allows her to drop her mug. The tea pools on the white tiled floor, but the mug is still in one piece (you’ve got to love those alien ceramics). She can feel her eyes grow impossibly wide and she knows it’s going to be hard for her to come up with a good cover story. 

She’s not sure how she ends up sitting on the floor with her back against the cabinets or how he ends up crouched in front of her, hair hanging in his face with those sad, worried crystal blue orbs staring at her. He’s speaking; she’s not sure what he’s saying (probably something to do with her breathing so she can calm herself down. She looks down at his lips and watches their movements, and she tries to form a rhythm for her breathing. She’s okay – _I am okay i’mokay i’mokay –_

_“That’s it, Oswald. Nice and steady.”_

“I’m not her.” She babbles. “I’m not her.” Clara says it steadier this time. “I know she looked like me – hell, probably sounded like me and did whatever else like me, but she’s not me. I’m not that Clara or Oswin or Clara Oswin or Cara or –“

“I know; I know. I believe you.”

“Who was she to you?” she inquires when she finally regains enough composure to speak like a semi-functional human being. 

“A friend.” He pushes out slowly. She opens her mouth to ask for more details, but he cuts her off before she even gets the words out of her mouth. “And that’s the only thing that matters. You’ve got millions of copies of yourself running around right?” she nods, not even bothering to ask where he got that information (because it was most likely in her file and all the people in this tower probably like to be educated on who their letting into their building), “and, as someone with a really fucked up memory and past and everything else, knowing stuff like that doesn’t always make you feel better – cause you’re not that person – not Connie or whoever else.” 

“It’s not your fault.” She mutters looking down at her hands. Surely, he was part of the reasn she panicked, but if it hadn’t been for the shit-storm of a year she had which had the full contribution to her fragile state emotionally, none of the past events with Barnes would have happened. She does look back up, only to find Barnes staring at her like she isn’t serious. “Really – I swear it isn’t – I’m fine, just sometimes everything catches up with me and it’s just too much.”

He moves so that he’s now seated beside her, their shoulders just barely brushed against each other. 

“Have you ever thought about talkin’ to someone about this?”

“Barnes,” she snorts, “rule number one of being a time traveler is don’t talk about it – if I told the shrinks that, oh I don’t know, saw a dinosaur spontaneously combust in Victorian London with a lizard-woman, her wife, and their alien butler that looks strangely like a potato that might be crossing the line of sanity.”

“I mean that sounds only a little less believable than my whole Hydra experience.”

“The only thing that might come close to that for me, at least, is being turned into a Dalek, but you know, surprise! I don’t quite remember that so we can’t exactly exchange stories.” 

She’s not trying to be funny, really, but Barnes lets out a deep chuckle and it’s got such a nice ring to it, that she’s making it her goal to get another one out of him (even if it kills her. Which, regarding both his and her line of work, just might.) 

And then Barnes starts going on about Rogers’ endless shenanigans; apparently he has always been a little shit – which doesn’t surprise her in the least.  
Clara isn’t sure why Barnes tries to cheer her up on the floor in the kitchen for forty-three minutes, but she does appreciate it. He is blunt and brash and at times, crude, but he is kind; and kindness is something that Clara cannot refuse. 

So, when those forty-three minutes are up, she stands up, thanking him whole heartedly for all that he’s done for her, and wishes him good night. 

And of course, he goes on about how it was his pleasure and flashes her a charming grin – one she’s sure that has had other ladies swooning in the past (and by the past she means the forties, because she is quite certain the Winter Soldier did not smile or had time to fuss over women.)

Perhaps, Clara might once have been one of those women, but she is not the woman she once was – she is heartbroken and tired and trying to cope with what the universe doled out to her. She is also lonely, and while she would just like to avoid the lot of them, she does need a friend and Barnes seems like a pretty good candidate. 

So, she picks her head up high and smiles right back. “See you around, Barnes.”

“See you around, Oswald.”

She makes her way out of the kitchen and through the common room (where she spies Rogers and Wilson being very cozy with each other, a very-much-asleep Clint, and a wide eyed and bushy tailed Natasha who offers Clara a wink. 

Clara ignores her- much too deep in her own thoughts to even care about the implication. 

Maybe she’ll finally start to be reimbursed by the universe for what she lost. Granted, nothing can replace Danny or the Doctor or everything else, but at least Barnes might be able to fill the aching void of companionship that she’s been feeling all too steadily for the past few months. 

And even if he doesn’t, well, she has nothing left to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'm backkkkkkk!!!! its been a month or so but that's life i guess.
> 
> basically i had most of this written in June but then i was busy and emo and everything else and hadn't a chance to even turn on my computer for like three weeks. And when i did want to write my brain was like 'lol no'.
> 
> so i finished this up last night (through my mcr induced tears) bc it was bugging me.
> 
> this is probably gonna be like three or four chapters bc usually if it gets longer than that i lose motivation very quickly, hopefully some of you will read it/enjoy is.
> 
> if you do happen to like it, please let me know bc it fuels my ego and i usually end up putting something together faster.
> 
> its a win-win situation guys, c'mon.
> 
> anyway - hope y'all are having a lovely July!  
> (Also follow me on tumblr - im @bcy-divisicn)
> 
>  
> 
> and be sure to listen to fixin' by walk the moon, which may or may not be where i got the title from


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's Clara Oswald, and she is not afraid of what lurks in the dark (and even if she is, she knows that fear makes her strong.)

Here's the thing – it's a month and a half later (New York is well into the harshness of February by now) and Clara finds that while her job is getting progressively less like a job and more like a hobby. She often times finds herself lost with the technology that's brought in – some of it being so familiar she swears she can still taste the alien air from the world she first spotted it (some of it reminding her of pain and death and all that she's lost).

Although most often time seeing these objects fills her with a sense of nostalgia that's welcoming and warm.

She is hurting, yes, but she wouldn't trade her memories of all that transpired before her world went to hell for the world.

She is however still getting acclimated to life at Stark tower. Darcy, who is as helpful and wonderful as she is bothersome, keeps inviting Clara to lunch with her and Jane (which Clara almost always refuses – it's not that she doesn't like the pair, it's just she knows that Jane and Darcy are inseparable and she would feel as if she were imposing.)

Also, Clara has no motivation to go out of her way to achieve human interaction. She's much more content with working (read as: toying around) with the tech that's piled up in her labs (along with her notes and old boxes of Chinese take-out and a few cupcake wrappers from the time that Darcy made them for team Science!)

So, apparently since Clara has made more than one active attempt at ditching lunch time with the 'rad ladies of Science!' the said 'rad ladies of Science!' have come to have lunch with her.

And that means Darcy has dragged Jane into Clara's lab so that the three of them can eat whatever the hell Darcy has in that brown paper bag.

Jane looks less than impressed and Clara manages to pin a bemused yet aggravated look on her face. She does like Darcy, honestly – and Jane, well Jane is just bloody _brilliant_ and Clara can't help but take a likeness for the small woman, but she would really like to finish trying to get the split quantum actualiser (that Thor brought in for her this morning) stable before it blows up the whole building, which there is a very low chance of, but while she knows what she's doing, she's not actually a mechanic so, there is always a possibility.

"Hello my space traveling friend – wait _shit_ , that could be referring to you or Jane or Thor or Tony – so you'll have to be the time traveling one – _anyway_ ," Darcy huffs, setting the bag down on the counter top in front of Clara who spares a glance up from her work to look at the boisterous woman in front of her, "I brought food! Your favorite too!"

Clara raises an eyebrow, losing interest in her work and gaining interest in the food, "From that Diner down the street?"

"Clara, my time traveling bro, it's the only place you'll eat from when you're not eating that Chinese food of yours. Now – I know – I love Chinese as much as the next overworked lab assistant, but you need to have a balanced diet… So I got you some vegetables, also known as French fries," Clara opens her mouth in protest, but Darcy waves a scarlet painted finger-nail at her, "We're in America, Clara – there will be no uttering of the c-word unless were talking about Frito Lays potato products."

"They're called crisps." Clara utters under her breath. If Darcy hears it, she doesn't respond, but instead delves into explaining what she got Clara for lunch.

"And I know it's not Philly, but I got you a cheese steak – with mushrooms and peppers and everything yummy instead of your signature fish and c-words, because you know – Cheese steaks are American and delicious." Darcy pauses thoughtfully, "and if you don't like it, I'll eat it and order you some Chinese - _I promise_."

Clara smiles encouragingly as Darcy pushes the bag a little closer to her. The paper is splotched with grease, but the aroma coming from it smells divine.

"I'll give it a try."

Darcy practically bounces off the walls (and then Jane tells Darcy to calm down before she breaks something, which is very plausible seeing as there are some very fragile, dangerous things just keeping her company in the lab.)

Clara was expecting the two women to sit down somewhere and pull out two other bags, but it seems that she was wrong (for once, it's not a bad thing.) Jane's got equations to run and things to blow up, and Darcy has Scientists to wrangle and take care of (Clara was apparently number one on that list; she's a little taken aback by how much Darcy cares.)  
They leave just as abruptly as they entered, leaving Clara in the peaceful wake of their disappearances.

(Clara has Jarvis to play some mellow eighties tunes while she eats her lunch and attempts to not blow the whole city up. In both exploits is she successful.)

 

 

About three days later, Thor comes in with Rogers and Barnes in tail – each man carrying their weight in wires and metal and machines. She's a little taken aback – she really wasn't expecting to do much today and found herself in the troublesome waters of her mind, but she's glad that she's now got something to tinker with. It'll keep her mind off things. She rushes up out of her bench.

"Just toss it down here!" she yelps as she pushes other tiny parts and weapons and god only knows what haphazardly into a pile. Rogers, Barnes, and Thor place the metal down.  
Barnes and Rogers start to look the place over – it makes her feel a little bit exposed. Her lab is about as messy as her mind right now (but it's an exceptionally organized chaos, so naturally only beings that know what to look for would notice that Clara's silently falling apart – façade put aside.)

And then Thor, bless his heart, tells her that he's pretty sure these are remains of a K9 unit, and he's aware that she's lonely without the Doctor, and how his Lady Jane felt similarly to how she's feeling right now (and he informs her that he's well aware that the two situations are very different) and, if she can piece them together again and get the right power source (or get Tony to make her one) she can keep it for herself – as a friend, companion, or whatever she needs it to be.

She almost cries – almost – but she keeps it in and lunges towards the Asgardian instead, enveloping him (and his very muscly body) into a giant hug. She doesn't say anything, but she's sure he knows just how grateful she is just by the sheer tightness of her embrace.

The last person she had hugged like this was the Doctor – and that was when he told her to never trust such things, but if she's being honest, she rarely ever listened to the Doctor so that advice went in one ear and out the other. (Except it didn't; statements like that stick with her.) But, Thor means well, and he's a rather good hugger (so she doesn't feel any sense of discomfort).

Rogers and Barnes start to meander through out her lab when she lets go of Thor. She doesn't bother to warn them not to touch anything (they should know better by now that pretty much anything in held in the labs at Stark Tower is lethal in some way or another.)

And then Thor offers his help if she ever may need it and her heart melts. He's been nothing but kind to her since she first met him. He understands her when she speaks of other worlds, and his attempts at fitting in seamlessly with the human race is adorably amusing (and she tries to help him out in any way she can. Because even though Clara feels like she doesn't belong anywhere right now, she doesn't want Thor to feel like he's too alien on this planet.)

She puts him to work right away – ordering him around to grab wrenches and other such tools. Barnes and Rogers stand by and watch – and she offers for them to help her or get out. They opt to help her.

Rogers is the first to throw in the towel after she almost accidentally electrocutes him. (Well it was mostly his fault, but she feels partially responsible.) Barnes laughs while she fusses over what he did wrong instead of asking if Rogers was okay. And Thor just stood impartial to the side with red and black wires in hand.

Rogers walks out with an excuse worse than the Doctor's dripping off his lips and Barnes and Thor's laughter plays mercilessly in the background. She's too busy reworking a circuit board to even say good bye. (She's also pretty sure Captain America hates her now, so she puts that on her list of things to wallow about when she finishes assembling the K9 Unit.)

Thor leaves about three hours later when Darcy comes to summon him; he's needed by Jane "like now. She hasn't slept in three days and you're the _'Jane Whisperer'_ so please hurry." (She also says something along the lines of 'heya, Gramps.' to Barnes and he tosses back a pretty menacing glare, but it doesn't faze Darcy in the slightest as she practically skips out the door with Thor in tow.)

Now, it's just Clara and Barnes, who has helped her very little in the past five hours, but now suddenly, he's interested in what she's doing – even understanding what she's trying to do.

Which is much different than what she was expecting, since Barnes likes to give Tony shit about his mechanics. Despite herself, Clara smiles. She knows the type well; she was once a teacher and she's had her fair share of closeted scholars.

Not only is Barnes more helpful that both Rogers and Thor combined, but he's also pleasant company. He keeps up a light conversation when she isn't ushering out orders. And when the time comes, he even invites her to dinner with the rest of the Tower's residents. She declines, as usual. She's too busy with her work to even think about eating (or to notice the disappointed mug Barnes has).

He leaves and the lab is eerily quiet, and for a second Clara contemplates joining Barnes and company at dinner (then she remembers the last dinner of the like that she attended and decides that she'd much rather be alone and working than listening to Clint knit-pick Roger's and Sam's sexual life, which she knows too much about already. Tony said the walls were soundproof, but she's really starting to have doubts.)

She shakes her head in hopes of dispensing the rest of her thoughts that are not directly related to the mostly disassembled K9 unit in front of her. When she's focused on the task at hand once more, she gets to work.

 

 

Clara doesn't leave the lab for three days. And even then, it's because Darcy kicks her out (apparently Clara is in desperate need of a shower and 'needs to eat something other than fruit snacks and pretzels'. Darcy also added that Clara won't be let in the lab for another twelve hours so she should at least try to sleep.)

So she has no choice to listen to the overbearing but well-meaning lab assistant. She returns to her flat, strips herself and hops right into the shower. She hums a medley of her favorite songs as she scrubs her body, and when she's done with that, she hops out, wrapping herself into a plush towel.

She travels into her bedroom, where she pulls out her clothes for the day – a warm and soft sweater dress that her gran got her years ago (its comfy and it flatters her figure, so naturally its one her favorites), a pair of grey tights, and she digs through her closet to find the right pair of black heels (approve by herself and the Doctor for world saving!)  
She returns to her bathroom and applies her makeup and dries her hair so she can maintain her image of stability.

Once she deems herself presentable enough, she grabs the top book off her coffee table and heads to the communal kitchen to whip up some food. She runs into Natasha in the elevator and they exchange pleasantries. Clara's fairly friendly with the red headed assassin (when Clara has the energy to get out of her flat and tries to socialize with the rest of the team, she opts to stay nearest to Natasha – who shares her love of classic literature and pissing off Clint).

Natasha is going sparring, so Clara leaves the elevator alone and quietly makes her way to the kitchen. She walks through the living room, and spotting a still body wrapped under blankets on the couch, she makes an effort to be extra quiet.

It's bad enough Darcy kicked her out of her lab, the last thing she wants is to be responsible for pissing off a sleeping super hero while she could have been putting together a robotic dog.

When she (finally!) gets to the kitchen, she digs into the fridge. It's recently been restocked and she pulls out some fresh lettuce and other miscellaneous vegetables and puts together a salad. That process is a lot less painstaking than assembling a K9 unit. She fills up a glass with water, and sits down at the counter.

She eats in silence. The quiet is nice, not that the usual whirling and clashing of her machines isn't, but it's calming and, before she knows it she's alone with her thoughts.

And then, of course her mind begins to wander – she has nothing to distract herself with; unlike Jane, she can't whip out equations when she's nervous. Clara wants to curl up in a ball – or do anything other than think about how proud Danny would be or how much she misses the Doctor (and his adventures).

So she does.

She finishes her salad in a hurry, and finds herself once again on the kitchen floor (although this time the scenario is lacking a specific super soldier and a panicked state). She opens her book and begins to read, letting the words take her somewhere far off from her thoughts of pity and grief.

She's at page ninety-seven when Barnes trips over her extended legs. He doesn't fall over, thank goodness, but he loses his balance and a string of expletives spill from his lips. Clara fails to stifle her giggles through her apologies.

By the looks of it, he was the sleeping being on the couch; his hair is in a messy half bun and his clothes are wrinkled and disheveled: his face shows signs of the remnants of sleepiness. In other words, he's quite the sight to behold (Not that Clara is looking, of course; she's got too much wallowing to do before she even contemplates the disaster of romantic feelings for other beings.)

"Darcy kick you out?" he asks her once he regains enough composure (which is about three seconds after he trips).

"Yep; I'm supposed to be sleeping, but you know how it goes, I'm sure." He nods. That's one thing she likes about Barnes, she supposes; he never beats around the bush when it comes to his past. He's also had a while to come to terms with it (and Rogers and the rest of the Avengers to support him through his reconditioning).

"You should at least try to sleep."

"It's not that I don't try, but is two to three hours of sleep really worth the aggravation?" she closes her book with a sigh, "I don't seem to think it is. The reasonable side of me knows that I should sleep – I've had nightmares before but nothing quite compares to watching yourself turn your boyfriend into an emotionless cyberman. And then he blows himself up for you – saving the whole goddamn world in the process." She laughs bitterly, "the worst is knowing he could've come back; _we could've been happy,_ and everything else, but he chose to save some kid he killed during his tour instead of himself."

"He sounds like he was a good man." Barnes sounds as if he's unsure of what to say (Clara can't say that she blames him. This is a conversation that is never supposed to happen. There's just something about Barnes that compels her to spill her guts.)

"Yeah, Danny Pink was a good man - the best, really," she says wistfully, "and I suppose that's why I feel so terrible about everything. When I do sleep – I'll wake up and just think about how selfish I am, and was. I wanted a normal life with a normal boyfriend and a normal job, but I also wanted to fly around space with a thousand year old alien in a blue police box that's bigger on the inside. The two of those things don't go hand in hand, and in the end I managed to betray my best friend, who I literally threatened to leave stranded on some volcanic planet - and he still forgave me, and I killed my boyfriend, like twice."

Clara sighs, not bothering to look up at Barnes who's definitely acting like an arsehole and pitying her or something.

"They both wanted me to be happy, but quite frankly, I'm more miserable than ever."

He's quiet for a few moments, pursing his lips before he begins to speak.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to someone about this? Cause, from experience, I know it's not good to keep that all in."

"I'm not crazy – I'm just, ugh I don't know, hollow. And I do talk about it – I just spoke to you and sometimes when Kate calls asking me how I'm doing I'll indulge her with my personal struggles."

"You should talk to Wilson," she gives him a questioning glance, "I'm serious! We've all got baggage here – some more than most, but Wilson's like this counselor/friend/therapist hybrid and he's not gonna call you crazy, I promise okay?"

"Alright Barnes – stop acting like my mum about it. I'll do it. I've got one question though –"

"Have at it, doll." He says. Clara grins.

"Should I bring up how his and Roger's weird animal sex noises are putting a serious damper on my sleep schedule?"

Barnes chokes on laughter, and she smiles wide and bright for the first time in a while.

 

 

 

She does find Sam Wilson. She does tell him he's hindering her sleeping patterns. She does confess to how she's feeling. And it's nice – because Wilson – Sam, as he asked to be called, isn't just hearing what she's saying, he's listening. He doesn't understand, not really, but he's trying and she appreciates it.

They agree to stay in contact when she's feeling exceptionally blue or just needs someone to dump everything on.

She's glad she took Barnes' advice. Maybe this is the first step into believing she doesn't need to Universe's approval to be happy.

 

 

 

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Darcy asks as Clara wipes a grease stain off her face. The smaller woman ignores Darcy's pestering and keeps working. "I told you not to come back until twelve hours had passed and – wow! Look at that. It's only been, what, _five_ . Clara, listen I know you love work and you're dealing with more stuff than most us at the moment, but you need to like, rest or something like, you're edging close to Jane's six day Science! streak and I'm starting to get a little concerned."

"Hush up and pass me that circuit board."

Darcy makes a 'harrumph' sound and complies, and Clara continues with her work.

And she doesn't stop working (despite Darcy's constant nagging) for two days until her very own K9 unit is complete. The machine is a little slow, but that's to be expected. It's fifty-first century tech re-built out of spare parts and a make-shift power supply (and it's only just been turned on. It still needs to acclimate itself.) The robot only incinerates the garbage can once with its laser nose contraption (that Tony is not going to be thrilled about, but Clara thinks he's a bit biased since he's the one that created Ultron a few years back. Killer robots are old news to Clara at this point, and if K9 turns out to be as murder crazed as anything else, than she'll deal with her mess.)

Darcy is impressed, however she still ushers Clara (and K9) out of the lab and into Clara's flat before she can boast of her accomplishments to anyone else. (It is also three thirty-seven in the morning on a Wednesday, so no one is actually up and about the tower.)

She slips off her three-day old sweater dress (and bra and everything else) that smells of oil, smoke, and sweat, and pulls over a too-big tee-shirt before hopping into bed. K9 rolls up beside her, and she gives the machine a pat on its metal head as it wishes her good night and puts itself into hibernation mode.

She hopes desperately to any deity out there that she'll be able to sleep at least a little tonight now that she has some company. (She just wishes she could trust herself as much as she already trusts the machine next to her.)

She holds off closing her eyes for a few minutes, not wanting her mind to drift while she tries to fall asleep. She focuses on the too-white ceiling which is now coated in an inky shade of darkness mixed in with the city lights that managed to find their way through the slits in her drawn blinds.

She can do this; she can sleep.

She's Clara Oswald, and she is not afraid of the dark (and even if she was, she knows that fear makes her strong.)

And maybe, before she drifts off to sleep, she admits to herself that she is a little scared, but that's okay. Scared means she's alive and kicking. Scared means that she can get better. Scared means that she can find the home that she's looking for.

She just has to be brave. (And, by God, she thinks this is the biggest "fuck you" the Universe has ever received).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been working on this for the better part of two weeks. i hope it's alright. it's a little shorter than i would like it to be, but if i added anything else to it i think it would seem a little forced so hopefully its sub par.
> 
> check me out on tumblr -my multi-fandom blog is bcy-divisicn, and if you're into aesthetics and stuff, you can find me at bvlletforme!
> 
> this chapter was inspired by a variety of songs which i'm going to list for you because they are def. worth a listen. :)  
> -coast (it's gonna get better) by Patrick Stump  
> -surrender the night by my chemical romance  
> -we are the kids by walk the moon  
> -and lastly, ode to sleep by twenty one pilots
> 
> have a great rest of the week, loves!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe how long it's been since i wrote for this. there are about three different versions of this chapter, and i think this one turned out the best, so here ya go, fam. consider this a christmas present despite it not actually being christmas day.
> 
> whatever, just enjoy.

There are many things that are going well for Clara right now.

However, today is one of those days where everything that can and will go wrong in a lab containing very explosive and dangerous things happens to go wrong. If she’s being honest, it’s bringing her back to the days when she used to travel with the Doctor.

Thinking of him isn’t so painful anymore. Darcy’s noticed a difference (and Darcy, however snoopy, is incredibly dense when it comes to things like this, so Clara’s discerned that the majority of the staff and residents in the tower are aware of her somewhat improved mental state.) She’s even brought up some of her adventures (that she thought she would never speak of) to Barnes, and the happiness she feels when she sees his face light up with glee at the prospect of space and time travel (let alone her adventures with an alien in a space-and-time machine) just about makes up for all the shit she’s been through.

That’s the least of her concern now, because somehow, K9 managed to set her latest project on fire, which isn’t really that big of an issue when you disregard the fact that only just a few meters away lies a very flammable thing that Thor had cautioned her about. What adds fuel to the mess is, that not ten minutes earlier, Darcy and Jane had come racing into her lab in a hustle for the fire extinguisher to stop Jane’s equipment from being destroyed.

This is where she would be yelling ‘run’ at the top of her lungs and holding out a hand for the Doctor.

But the Doctor isn’t here; So, she’s got to settle for the next best thing – sitting it out in moderate to severe panic.

Lucky enough for her, it’s at this moment when Tony enters the Lab with a fire blanket draped around him for some godforsaken reason. Clara really doesn’t have enough time to ask questions; the fires grown a little larger in the past three minutes she’s just been sitting and watching it burn.  She tells K-9 to stay, while she lunges to where Tony is standing in mild bewilderment at the mess that is her lab. She rips the blanket off his shoulders and hurriedly runs back to the small inferno before tossing it on the flames.

To her misfortune, it wasn’t a fire blanket. And instead of putting out the fire, the damned thing is getting larger. She’s starting to fuss now; Tony _is_ fussing, and won’t shut up about his blanket. She’s about ready to rip his face off; and _who the hell_ wears a fucking blanket in a lab (Clara opts not to answer that because she has quite a few times, but that was for other reasons entirely and she’s sure Tony has no other explanation for his blanket wearing-self other than “because he can”.)

“ _Goddamn it!”_ She shouts as the fire starts to slowly engulf small baubles she’s put together. It’s getting closer to the end-all thing that Thor brought to her, and while she knows she really isn’t supposed to carry it, she grabs it quickly and puts it in Tony’s hands. At least that way, he’ll be blamed for the catastrophe that follows.

“JARVIS,” she says in a very calm manner, “please, alert anyone in the general vicinity of a fire extinguisher to get their arse into my lab before I burn the whole bloody building down.”

“Sure thing, Miss Oswald.” The AI responds (in a nice, kind way the TARDIS never would), “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Tell whomever it is that’s doing the fetching to grab Tony another blanket.”

“I have informed Sergeant Barnes of your dilemma, and he is on his way”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Miss Oswald.”

She turns to K9, which is still exactly where it was when it set the lab aflame. The hunk of bolts is wagging its tail like the stupid fire is a good thing. She’s about to call her machine out of the line of fire when Barnes bursts through the lab doors and past Tony in all his grey sweatpants and tight shirt and tied up hair glory.

There’s another thing Clara’s forgot to mention; she finds Barnes to be not only good company, but also charming, witty, and rather handsome. She thinks she’s been doting on that for a while now, but _of course,_ leave it to K9 and lab fires and impeccable timing by muscular assassins to help her realize that.

It’s something she shoves to the back of her mind when he asks her if she’s alright. Because this is Barnes – her friend who helps her with her panic attacks and with her work, who’s asking questions about her life in attempt to get to know her better, who asks her for book recommendations when no one’s around because he knows she was an English teacher and he’s got a thing for the classics.

Because he’s Barnes – and he’s her friend – and that’s all she wants, a friend.

(And she’s Clara Oswald, and when has she ever been sure of what she wants?)

Tony leaves after Barnes stops paying attention to him (he’s still muttering on about the blanket for Christ’s sake) Barnes, on the contrary, is paying attention to Clara, so much so that it forces her to drift out of her train of thought on how maybe Barnes could be a bit more than a friend if she works at it.

Like she worked at it with the Doctor (and look how well that fucking turned out.)

Perhaps, though, this time it could work – James doesn’t seem to have any wives flying around or god complexes or strange alien tendencies and quirks.

“You alright there, Oswald?” he asks, looking truly concerned.

“Absolutely. ‘M probably gonna take the rest of the day off though, you know – occupational hazards and such.”

“I feel ya.”

“Well,” she heaves, “See you around, James.”

She turns, whistles for K9 and exist her labs before she even gives herself a chance to look at his reaction of her not using his last name.

Not there would be one because it’s _completely rational_   for friends to refer to each other on a first name basis.

 

 

* * *

 

At the end of that week, things are back to being as normal as normal gets for Clara Oswald.

And by that she means Clint is trying to teach her how to bake because Nat’s out of town with Steve and Sam for some reason, and Wanda is busy canoodling with Vision on the couch to even be bothered with him.

So, of course he’s finagled everyone’s favorite British time-and-space traveler to bake with him. (Her one condition was that they had to at least attempt to make a soufflé.)

It’s not going very well.

By the evening, Clara and Clint manage to set the oven on fire; two fires in four days – this has to be some kind of record.

Now that she thinks about it, her baking expeditions back in the day are probably the reason that the TARDIS hated her so much.

She’s pretty sure Tony hates her now too; she’s not trying to burn down his tower – she swears. (Whether or not he believes her is a different story).

 

 

* * *

 

She’s curled up on the common room’s couch listening to her mother’s favorite Rolling Stones album and reading _A Study in Scarlet_.

She likes this – the calm when no one’s around in the general areas; when it’s just her alone with a good book.

It feels good – like she’s finally able to do something without the fear of her mind being prevalent. She likes the quiet; there was once a time she couldn’t stand it, but Clara appreciates it now because of all the chaos that she’s been through.

Although sometimes, it makes her feel a little lonely. She misses that companionship that she had with the Doctor. She’s trying to find that here – all these people have been so welcoming to her, but there’s just nothing like running from aliens three-thousand years into the future that brings people together.

She stops thinking and gets back to reading about Sherlock Holmes, which is much more pleasurable activity.

Of course, this is where Sam, Rogers, and James enter the common room in the midst of one of their shit-show arguments that only they could pull off. As usual, she tries her best to tune the three of them out, but her attempt is met with no avail.

It’s infuriating, really, how it’s calm one moment, and the next, there are three grown men arguing over chocolate.

Apparently, James and Rogers think that it too sweet now, and Sam is just nodding in exasperation at this point. Clara really has no input, the Doctor ruined most of earth’s chocolates after he took her to one of his exotic space restaurants.

Just, the whole basis of the argument, as she can gather, is pure ridiculousness – more than likely just to piss off Sam. She’s half tempted to get up and retreat to her room, but that means collecting he record and book and making a trek, and she’s super comfortable right where she is.

So, she rides it out, and tries to get back to reading.

But, she can’t do that because it’s at this time that her phone starts ringing, and she has to answer, because the only person that ever calls her is Kate. (At least the ringing of her phone cause that three arseholes to stop arguing.)

“Clara Oswald, speaking.”

“Hello, Clara!” Kate begins brightly, which is a very un-Kate-like thing to do, “How are you?”

“Good? What’s up?” She questions, cautiously.

Kate takes a large, deep breath, “He’s back.”

“No –“ Clara laughs, “he can’t be _back –_ he’s only just found his home? And he wouldn’t lie to me – not about _that.”_   The previously arguing trio turns to look at her, all worried.

“He’s asked about you and Sergeant Pink.”

“Please tell me you didn’t…”

“You know I can’t lie to him, Clara, even if I wanted to.” Kate says, clearly crestfallen.

“Okay, okay so he knows that I lied about my boyfriend being _alive_ , obviously, so now what? What could he possibly ever want with me.” She stands up, nearly yelling into the phone as she paces around the room; Sam, Rogers and James do their best to get the fuck out of her way.

“He wants to see you – I think to apologize, but you know how it is with the Doctor.” Clara almost laughs; she’s too busy gnawing at her lips.

“Okay.” Clara says, finally, “So, let’s say, I _do_ agree for him to see me, and, he comes and we make up and such, you know he’s going to want to take me away again –“ Kate beings to say something but Clara doesn’t let her, “Listen, Kate, I _know_ the Doctor and I know how much I mean to him, and he’s a lonely old man – he’s going to ask me to come with him, and” Clara almost crumbles, “there’s no way I’m going to be able to say 'no' to that.”

“But you want to see him?”

“He’s my _friend,_ Kate, I may be furious with him, but I miss him.” And after a moment of careful thinking, she adds, “and his cow of a space ship.”

“So, do you want me to tell him that –“

“Yes,” she smiles, “Yeah, just let him know he’s got to come to me – and try not to set anything on fire, because well, Tony sort of thinks I’m trying to burn the building down.” Kate laughs, and wishes Clara a good bye.

Two minutes later, she hears the sound of the TARDIS and she can’t help the yelp of glee that escapes her.

(She’s also not sure why she’s so happy to see the man who left her broken and alone, but that’s her life, she supposes.)

She disregards Sam, Rogers, and James, and she rushes to the now materialized police box in the middle of the floor.

She’s about to open the doors of the machine, when the Doctor emerges with the biggest, saddest grin on his face.

“Hello, Clara.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos are the bees knees


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara Oswald decides that she doesn’t need the universe – she makes her own fate – and that means that she’s going to do her damnedest to make herself happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHA LONG TIME NO SEE!!!!!  
> its been like??? too long idk? but i did it! i finished this bitch!!!
> 
> its trash but i dont care? i havent completed a multi chap since like,, 2015 this is a Huge Step for me. (i'd like to thank the academy...)
> 
> anyway, hopefully it isnt too terrible?????  
> much love for all of you that decided to stick with me all this time. it means a lot. 
> 
> as usual, pardon the errors, i'll get to the ones i missed l8r, h8rs.

As it turns out, Clara Oswald imagined the whole scenario with the Doctor up.

It’s been a recurring dream of hers that always seems to pop up as soon as she thinks she’s made an improvement.

She tells this to Sam when they meet again, and he assures her that it’s normal. She misses her friend, she’s still getting habituated to a new, foreign environment. It’s not bad that she wants to go back to the past – she holds her traveling days in the fondest part of her heart (despite the rocky ending, they still were the most precious days of her life).

Sam suggests maybe taking a break from work for a day or two -  to go out on the town with Darcy (because she seems to be the most cultured person in the building) and relax a bit.

She says she'll think about it.

 

* * *

 

 

So naturally, Clara does the exact opposite.

She throws herself into her work, leaving her lab to eat and use the bathroom. She can fix the broken pieces of technology, she can figure out what the hell the pieces of (what looks to be scrap metal) are that clutter her work space, she can help make a difference by her unique past experiences.

She feels useful – like she’s finally cracking the shell of a person that she has been for far too long.

Except the no sleep catches up to her, and in the middle of walking to the kitchen to grab a granola bar (or some sort of sustenance), Clara passes out.

Lucky enough, K9 hasn’t left her side since she reassembled the damn thing, so someone’s able to come get her and transport her to the couch in the common room. Clara isn’t sure of the exact amount of time that she spends asleep on the couch, but it is dreamless and serene for the first time in ages.

There are no old men in boxes, or soldiers in metal armor, younger old men on war-torn planets, there are no other versions of herself, or anything else, and for this, Clara is extremely grateful.

When she wakes up, however, she quickly finds that she isn’t alone. Natasha is sitting on the couch across from her reading the paper, Clint’s scrolling through something on his phone while sprawled across the floor, and, perhaps, the most shocking revelation is that Clara Oswald is sharing her couch with none other than James Barnes.

He’s still asleep – at least she thinks he is – his breath is even and controlled as it flutters against the back of her neck. His arm is draped over her waist and while it’s certainly heavy (not as heavy as the metal one though), it’s by no means uncomfortable – in fact, if Clara’s honest, she finds it comforting. His legs are tangled with hers, which are prickly and gross from not showering (or shaving) in about four days (not ideal snuggling material, but she doubts that anyone really cares about the amount of hair on her legs).

It’s nice.

And then Clint takes her picture like the piece of shit he is.

Natasha laughs, and suddenly Clara’s moment of tranquility is ruined. James wakes up, and Rogers and Sam come into the room overtaken by heaving fits of laughter. All eyes are on her and James, so she does what she finds comes most naturally: she gets up, smiles, and leaves the room for the safe haven that is her lab.

Too bad she doesn’t take her sweet time walking out of there - she would’ve heard the shit everyone was giving James.

That really would have gotten her hopes up, though, and Clara knows from experience that sometimes somethings are too good to be true.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Darcy decides that Clara needs to get out of her lab because her “stench is making its way towards Jane’s lab, and if Clara can get away with Sciencing around the clock, Jane might get the idea that she can too.”

It sounds super insensitive, but Clara gets it.

Darcy’s got a weird way of showing that she cares.

So, Clara leaves to head back to her room and shower and change and maybe watch something on the tele (of course K9 follows her; that dog is connected to her at the hip).

Clara isn’t sure of the time – it’s dark out, and there’s barely anyone loitering in the halls, she assumes it must be pretty early in the morning. She makes her way to her flat, unlocks it without a hitch, and checks the time: 3:03.

Maybe she’ll sleep for an hour, then.

Nevertheless, she runs to her bathroom, strips off her clothes and jumps into the shower. The warm water feels like heaven on her skin; she scrubs off all the grime and dust (and shaves!), she lathers shampoo into her hair – relishing how silky the bubbles feel, and by the time she exits the shower, she feels like a new woman.

She decides that functioning on four hours of sleep for a week's worth of time is not going to be beneficial for her, so she might as well try to sleep.

It’s the thought that counts, anyway.

Except as soon as she plops herself on her bed and pulls up the covers, she’s out like a light.

There are no dreams of the Doctor, instead, her mind is content with the vast nothingness that appears instead of the millions of thoughts that race through her head.

Maybe the Clara has finally swayed the universe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Weeks fly by. James remains a constant in her life, but also a variable.

Or, she’s pretty sure that he’s trying to flirt with her.

It’s cute; he still likes to spend time with her in her lab while she’s fixing her machines and everything else Tony (and UNIT) has her doing, but she’s feeling better – missing the Doctor, but not as much – and talking more, and well, she’s always been known to be a bit of a flirt (or a wild one, as her old friends would say).

And everyone keeps insinuating that James once was quite the catch – every time she passes by Rogers (who is usually by default with Sam or James), he always seems to be retailing James’ former glory with the ladies.

James always looks mortified, and she can’t help but let little bubbles of laughter out from behind her hand.

Clara’s pretty sure that Darcy’s been giving him lessons on how to talk to girls in the twenty-first century, and while he’s failing miserably, it’s quite heartening.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

While Clara admits that she’s made a lot of improvements over the time that she’s been living and working in New York, she’s not foolish enough to not accept that she’s going to be faced with challenges along the way.

Some days are overwhelming.

Somedays she can’t get out of bed because she knows that the ache in her bones is a longing for something more than sorting and fixing and analyzing alien tech. Somedays she breaks down in tears in her lab because she’d rather hear the quiet chatter of her English class at Coal Hill instead of the whirl of machines. Sometimes she sits in her bathroom – where there aren’t any windows, because the New York skyline just makes her miss home more than ever.

But those times aren’t nearly as frequent as they used to be – she contributes that to Darcy’s relentless effort to get her out of her lab and to make friends with the people that reside in the tower with her.

She attends more movie nights, more team dinners, she goes out in the city with Darcy, Jane, and Thor when they ask. When James asks her for book recommendations, she picks out some of her favorites of all time. When Natasha asks her if she’s like to learn some self-defense maneuvers, Clara accepts. She jokes around more with Clint. She argues more with Rogers.

She becomes better friends with all of them.

And soon, she finds that she wasn’t nearly as lonely as she thought.

She’s got friends, and yeah, she’s going to miss her _best friend_ , but that shouldn’t hinder her from putting herself out there and getting to know more unique and funny and wonderful people.

Clara Oswald decides that she doesn’t need the universe – she makes her own fate – and that means that she’s going to do her damnedest to make herself happy.

And that means being with friends, going out with Darcy on a Tuesday night just for the hell of it, engaging in a prank war with Clint, Rogers, and Natasha, and flirting with James so that he maybe gets the hint that she’s ready for whatever’s next in the progression of their friendship.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” Darcy questions while taking a huge bite of a sandwich. Her glasses are perched gently on her nose as she sits on the only clear counter space in Clara’s lab.

“I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do with this thing, and it still isn’t working.”

“If that’s a metaphor, it went right over my head.”

Clara groans in frustration.

“Darcy, you’re not helping.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Your job title is _literally_ Lab Assistant.”

Darcy shrugs, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“ _Bloody Americans_.” Clara murmurs under her breath.

“I heard that!” Yells the girl sitting down around a huge bite of sandwich.

Clara goes back to ignoring the other human and fiddling with the machine in front of her. After about thirty minutes, she finally figures out what she’s been doing wrong.

“I got it!” She shouts to Darcy. Except Darcy’s left the lab and she’s stuck looking like a mad woman. K9’s there for her, though, and it lets out its attempt at a bark. It’s a little sad, but Clara appreciates the sentiment all the same.

Deciding she no longer holds the patience to attempt to work on anymore of the endless projects littering her lab, Clara cleans up and makes her way to her room. She bumps into Sam on her way there, and says a quick hello. She takes a quick shower and gets changed into a casual jumper and pants. She fixes her makeup, grabs a book ( _Sense and Sensibility,_ if you must know) and begins her journey to the common room.

Except on her way there, she comes across Rogers and James in the midst of a tense discussion – and she’s the topic of debate.

She feels bad for eavesdropping, but curiosity always seems to get the best of her. She does her best to stay carefully silent and unseen as she listens to the conversation in the hallway ahead of her.

They’re pretty quiet, so she doesn’t catch all the parts of the conversation, but she’s able to hear enough that she can piece together what they’re saying.

Something about how Steve thinks he should wait a bit longer; how he’s not sure if Clara’s completely stable (which she isn’t, she doubts she’ll ever be, but that just something she’ll have to live with), or if she’s ready or interested in anything regarding romance at the moment.

James says that he’s aware that she’s going through a lot right now, but he brings up how much time he spends with her and how her flirting’s gotten more and more straight forward. How Darcy’s been updating him on how she’s doing when he’s not around. How he seems to notice how she lights up when he’s near.

How he’s pretty sure he’s half way in love with her.

That’s when Clara decides it’s her time to leave, and she skitters off in the opposite direction, and back to her room.

She doesn’t want to be in the company of others at the moment, because this is a Big Thing.

And that means she’s gonna deal with it like a Big Girl (aka go back to her room and stress about it while she watches re-runs of Brooklyn 99).

 

 

* * *

 

 

She gets to thinking, and decides that maybe stepping out with James wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She likes him too – he’s kind, and devilishly fit, and a right piece of work. He’s helpful and more than a wonderful friend – but, she’s worried, deep down, that he’ll leave too.

She’s terrified of loss – losing herself, losing the Doctor, losing Danny, losing her friends – losing everyone she holds dear – and she knows how losing the Doctor felt; she’s not sure she wants to go through with that.

And she’s almost ready to start another episode when she comes to the realization that she can’t keep living like this. She’s so worried about what might happen, that she won’t focus on what’s happening currently – maybe that’s the time travel talking, but, it doesn’t matter.

If going out with James will make her happier now, then why the hell not?

The Universe has it out for Clara Oswald, but she says, “ _Fuck it.”,_ and marches out of her room, clad in the most unflattering pajamas straight across to James’.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Knocking on the door, she has some second thoughts, but then she remembers that she’s got nothing to be scared of and calms down a little bit (or, she doesnt calm down much at all, but it’s the thought that counts.)

He answers the door rubbing his eyes. He’s got sweatpants slung low on his hips – and he’s bare chested. Clara swallows, a whole lot more nervous than before.

“Hey.” She says.

“Clara – is everything okay?”

“Yeah – everything’s _bloody fantastic,_ actually, I was wondering if, um, I could speak to you - if it’s a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He perks up, “Come right in.” James ushers her inside and leads her to the living room. She sits down on his couch. He sits down next to her.  She takes in his room for a moment -it’s very precise, but also unorganized. Picture and posters and ticket stubs littler the walls, the furniture is arranged very angularly – it’s crisp and modern with the dash of antiquity and she’s never seen anything more James.

“So, what’s up.”

She clams up for a moment, running fake lines in her head did not prepare her at all for the real thing.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime? For dinner? Like a date?” She asks; Clara wishes she was a bit more confident, but this is a big step for her, so she lets it slide.

James’ smile reaches the corner of his eyes; it makes him look years younger – Clara doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this happy before.

It’s nice, that she has this effect on people again.

“I’d love that, actually.” He takes her hand and brings it to his lips. It’s very old fashioned, and Clara tries to fight the grin that spreads across her face.

“Tomorrow at six sounds nice? My place?” She toys with her hair.

“Sounds like a date, doll.”

She kisses the corner of his lips, she feels him tense up, “See you there, James.”

She stands up and lets herself out.

“Same to you.” He calls, still sedentary on the couch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She not in her flat for five minutes before there’s a knock on her door.

It’s obviously James.

When she opens the door, he lunges at her, wraps her up like she’s a precious gem, and kisses her like it’s 1945. Clara’s kissed plenty of people from plenty of places in her life, but she’s never kissed someone who performs the action quite as well as he does.

It’s nice – there really isn’t another word that encompasses it all; because it’s not too passionate, but yet it is. There are a lot of unsaid words – like how Clara hasn’t been this happy since the Doctor left, or how much she’s come to care for him during her time in America, or millions of other tiny thoughts about how James has helped her come to terms with what happened to her.

And when they wake up the next morning, naked and tanged in each other, Clara doesn’t even care that they might be moving too fast, because this is what she wants.

And if the universe doesn’t like that, then Clara decides it can go fuck itself. She doesn’t need its approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking around :-)  
> comments/kudos are the bee's knees

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i'm backkkkkkk!!!! its been a month or so but that's life i guess. 
> 
> basically i had most of this written in June but then i was busy and emo and everything else and hadn't a chance to even turn on my computer for like three weeks. And when i did want to write my brain was like 'lol no'.
> 
> so i finished this up last night (through my mcr induced tears) bc it was bugging me. 
> 
> this is probably gonna be like three or four chapters bc usually if it gets longer than that i lose motivation very quickly, hopefully some of you will read it/enjoy is. 
> 
> if you do happen to like it, please let me know bc it fuels my ego and i usually end up putting something together faster.
> 
> its a win-win situation guys, c'mon.
> 
> anyway - hope y'all are having a lovely July!  
> (Also follow me on tumblr - im @bcy-divisicn) 
> 
>  
> 
> and be sure to listen to fixin' by walk the moon, which may or may not be where i got the title from


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